Dramatics in Slow Motion
by procol harum
Summary: Doug blinked a few times and things were back to normal. Speed, movement, the kid hurrying out of the room. No gunshots. Not before, not now.


**title: **Dramatics in Slow Motion  
**characters/pairing: **Doug Penhall, Tom Hanson  
**rating: **G  
**warnings: **  
**disclaimer: **i own nothing  
**summary: **Doug blinked a few times and things were back to normal. Speed, movement, the kid hurrying out of the room. No gunshots. Not before, not now.

**A/N:** **rosemelody2** on lj chose protect, gun, and love as words i'd work into a drabble(so it's longer) and this what i got. think i used protection and loved instead, but still... and that title? uhm. yeah... oh, and yes, i'm guessing one of tom's first cases because i can't remember the first season too good(and if he's shot at or held at gunpoint in the pilot, uh, no he wasn't, they lied...)

--

The gun had seemingly come out of nowhere and Doug had to look twice just to ensure that there actually was a gun clenched tight in the kid's hand. Held the right way, fingers already wrapped around the trigger, ready to shoot. He'd been in this kind of situation before, whether it be for practice at using a gun – need to learn how to use one if you're in a gang – or for fun, or maybe he had actually held somebody at gun point before. Doug didn't know. He'd only known the kid for two weeks, but had never talked to him. Only seen him a few times in the halls or cafeteria. And he wasn't like Professor Xavier from the comics he had in a box – alphabetized, the few things Doug actually kept organized – stored in the back of his closet. But the way this kid stood, gun held at the ready, was enough to make Doug believe that he had held somebody at gunpoint before, or else he was just really good at doing things the first time around.

Tom let out a strangled groan and fell forward on his knees, bone crunching lightly as it met the concrete below. No real damage done. Maybe just bruised. But nothing broken. Bones still in perfect working order. Meant he would still have a good chance at escaping. Except there was a hand at his side now, pulling at his belt – no, pulling something from out under his belt. His gun. He'd tucked the gun into the spot between belt and jeans to help in concealing the weapon better. Wasn't doing much good now. Felt cold metal slide against skin because his shirt was lifted up just a little and he shivered, but mostly from fear, not cold. His gun had been his weapon, his protection. Without it he would be helpless. Couldn't go against the kid unarmed because he would probably get shot. Shot by his own gun, at that.

Doug was there, though. Had gone with Tom to bust the dealer. Both had gone inside, and Tom had went with the oldest of the group to buy the drugs. Doug would know he was in danger by now. Had to. Always did. So why wasn't he there now? _Tom needed him_. Could probably take on the kid by himself but he was scared and didn't know why. Never been held at gunpoint before, never even been shot at before. But Doug, Doug was his partner. Doug should be there to help him out because that's what partners did. But he wasn't and Tom didn't know what to do.

"Let him go." That was Doug. Tom had been wrong, or at least partially. Because Doug would be there and he never should have doubted that. He had just been a little late,. But now, now Doug was there. He would distract the guy somehow and Tom would get away, would get his gun back. Right now, though, his weapon was currently pressed into the side of his head, metal against flesh -- like fire and ice he thought, because he felt hot, really hot, and the gun felt cold, really cold.

Tom's shirt lifted higher and he was now on his feet. Had been dragged back up, the guy not wanting his only hope for escape getting away. Needed Tom as a hostage, as a negotiation at freedom. But Doug would never allow that.

"C'mon man," Doug tried to reason, watching helplessly as Tom was pulled up roughly, gun pressed against his temple. Any wrong move and this room would be splattered in his best friend's brain matter. Couldn't let that happen, though. Talking to the kid was the best he could do if he wanted to ensure Tom didn't get hurt. "Just let him go. You don't need him."

It all seemed to happen slowly. In movies, they always played out the dramatics in slow motion. Enhance whatever it was that they wanted the focus to be on – guy getting shot, person running after a thief. It didn't matter. If it seemed important enough and dramatic enough, it could be slowed down. This wasn't actually slowed down because it was too real, but it still felt like time had begun going back, all moments and movements being pulled backwards, causing all movement forward to be slowed. Doug blinked a few times and things were back to normal. Speed, movement, the kid hurrying out of the room. No gunshots. Not before, not now. Tom was okay. On the floor again, legs splayed out behind him and if Doug didn't know what was happening, he would have guessed Tom was preparing to pray. Even if he wasn't religious. Didn't seem injured, just completely fazed by his first experience with being on the wrong end of a gun. Doug wanted to go to him but he couldn't. Had to get their suspect before he got away. Tom had nodded, already knowing what he was thinking. When you were a cop, being a cop always came first when on duty.

Doug never caught up with Martin Jones. Kid had gone out a back exit, through an alley, and off into freedom. He still had Tom's gun. Doug had hurried back inside once he'd reached the end of the alley and saw no trace of the kid. If you could no longer be a cop, then doing what needed to be done next was what you needed to do. And Doug's next job was to get back to Tom and get the both of them out of there and back to the chapel. Fuller would understand. They had lost the suspect, but at least they hadn't lost Tom. Doug was glad. He was pretty sure he loved Tom, and he didn't know what he would do if he lost him.


End file.
